The sun in mist;
A wild duck fallen from a cloud
Maybe a young great-crested grebe,
On its back a fine blood streak, perhaps
The color of water, perhaps of loneliness,
Head drooping, wet, it floats. A few feathers
Left in the silence, something like evening.
Shore and sky, twinned one under the other.
It struck water, turbid, unclear,
The rickety quay, remnants here and there,
Lake-birds hanging their heads in thought.

translated by Ruth Christie & Richard McKane

Bread on my knee
Stars in the distance far in the distance
I’m eating bread and looking at the stars
I’m so intensely lost in thought
That by mistake I eat
A star instead of bread

translated by Ruth Christie & Richard McKane

A notebook by the book
A glass by the notebook
A child by the glass
A cat by the child
And stars stars in the distance

translated by Ruth Christie & Richard McKane

A small lavender flower
A golden bee
Poppies without end
At this moment when
We love without thinking
Suddenly the sky begins

translated b y Ruth Christie & Richard McKane

Where were we? Here were we?—Now it’s impossible to tell.
It was a rough pillow we shared!
It was us or perhaps someone else who was like us,
The fruit of our love, the immortal child.

Soaking wet from the rain of those dreams,
Our coming smeared with sticky blood
Will never go out of my mind,
The gentle pulling out like swimming
In the clear sunny waters of the days,
Turning into ourselves from our mother’s womb,
That first scream, that first blue, that first breath of air.

translated by Ruth Christie & Richard McKane